The days speed. I drop into time and I can feel the immediacy of eternity.

How many times have I been on the same ride?How many times have I been on this highway and saw the same lights?It’s like the world has a record on queue and things don’t shine the way they used to.I asked the sun to come out mother, but she’s gone, like you.Her rays aren’t the same.The only thing she sends out these days is a haze that makes everyone in the world sick and drained.

Everyone I know is deficient of Vitamin D yet everyone talks about the myth of protein shortage. I used to wonder about the setting, about what’s important.But now I don’t because everything’s distorted. What was an apple then becoming an orange the day after?What is it that really matters?And what are they spraying in our skies?Who are the ones that take care of the bad guys when it’s only the bad guys who wins the prize?

No one’s protected on Mother Earth, mother.And this isn’t to confuse my faith in God, but those who govern.I interrogate our air, wind, water and gravity.What’s the strategy?There’s an invisible war. Do I know which side to fight for?There’s a toll bearing down on our fortunate souls.I know people are cold with their corpulent goals.Can you feel the stain of karma?Can you feel the wane of your timer?

Time’s revealing everything from the assembly line to the enigmatical rind.

The verge of a coughing fit is near, but good women like me enjoy revolving around naughty actions. I rise above my upper respiratory tragedy and decide to sweat the illness away by twerking out to rhythmic music. This evening I wear a form-fitting black blouse with light gray harem pants. The loose fabric puts me in the mind state of free flow. Also, strangely, I know this now, but never focused on it then, if I want to form a better connection with my glutes they mustn’t be shielded with an undergarment.

So the warm up begins, body temperature is busy with total body dynamic stretches and a various amount of hip circles in every direction. I thrive in the sensation of my muscles and blood heating up and swirling with flaming passion. Already I can sense the beloved charming playfulness and my fierce sexual energy intertwine as one. I throw my hands high in the sky, shuffle my feet to the beat and lose myself to the experience of my heart being musically inclined to the coolness of a down tempo.

My hair is loose, happy-go-lucky and fun just like my attitude. And I can feel the music about to change and lead on it’s up tempo journey and this is where open joy takes place and I forget about the meddling of my chest congestion and need of an asthma pump push. I grin in beautiful amusement and shake my tush like a hypnotic waterbed. I shake it in the vein of wanting an imaginary world to stand at my peppery interest. I shake it with the intent to make the fabric of my blouse stick with sweat to the small of my back and my harem pants dance against its own resolve. Proudly I wiggle my rump like a basic bellydance shimmy. I continue vibrating my bum to turbo achievement without letting any other body part assist.

Except, my body has a habit of working as a unit, so my core tightens on it’s own accord like a watchful warrior as well as my conscious thighs flex because they’re always ready to slay with action. And I continue in a light trance bending over forward similar to a hamstring stretch as I come back up and bend over again and come back up continuously wobbling my bum with a blissful smile on my face. I keep this stance happily for minutes on end before stepping out with a leg and creating a mini circle with my ass still quivering in its womanly flamboyance.

The hips continue side to side during the wobbling effect as I squat down and squat wobbling back up easy like a summer breeze. And it remains intriguing back then while I practiced as now how my butt jiggles with a mind of its own. I start to zone out a bit more and hurl my ass back into the groins of an imaginary person circling deliberately at first, but then building it forceful. In my head, I envision myself a ballerina on a dazzling jewelry box merrily going around and round yet evidently not as graceful, but putting in work as one for I never stop my glute throwback circles until I begin to feel a deep side stitch.

Then I move on and sit in a low squat position, fingers rotated inward so they face and grip the top of my inner thighs. It is here I feel the twerk within the static creases of my traps, triceps, back, core, erector spinae, tush, quads and hamstrings. I arch my hypersensitive back like a cat and lift my glutes upwards slow and drop it back down vigorously so they bounce relaxed and free from care. Gradually I bounce back up and down until the bum makes a synchronized ripple wave effect in all types of speed.

I feel my cough starting to climb and I settle down for a moment with calculated rhythm even as I carry the synchronized effect of the bounce in a smooth slow left and smooth slow right motion. Then I continue in the low squat to jerk my butt up and down while performing a big circle horizontally known by the terminology as around the world. And by this point my heart and lungs are beating in powerful fashion because they’re trying to catch up to the constant jumping of my harem pants and derrière. My legs fatigue under constant tension, but I feel wonderful living for these moments of fitness and body awareness.

I keep at different movements to different rhythmic songs for twenty minutes before I start to head on the floor, arms stretched out, palms on the ground where I brace and arch my lower back and soften my knees in a very high doggie position. My triceps contract hard, core is engaged, but the arch stays high and I once again allow my ass to go to places where it’s unrestricted. I let it tremble by popping it up in the air and dropping it low. I let it quake like someone is behind me letting their engine rev into my behind as I rev mine back at them. I allow my ass to thunder with additional help when I use momentum from my bent legs and shoot the back and bum upwards in a quick succession. I create fascinating hops, beautiful bounces, alluring circles and waves whether delicate or dynamic.

I persist popping the booty until I finally feel like I’m losing the limits of fluidity thirty to sixty minutes later. In between I take a breather, but then I start to wind down when my form starts to break and my lower back is inflamed like I maxed out on a thousand and one deadlifts. I slow it down when my thighs are trembling uncontrollably and I can no longer reach a balance of going back and forth between standing, squatting or bending down. This is where I get on my knees, jiggle extremely and even isolate each cheek separately with muscle control and than together because rather than feel sick and depressed in bed. I rather undergo contentment in unvarying states of movement while getting my fitness in. Plus I mustn’t disappoint my imaginary audience in the process.

P.S.

This would be a twerk level I would love to get to. Watch Lexy Panterra’s Twerk Out.

Since January, being sick on and off and dealing with a strain-like shoulder injury since December has been wearing and clawing at my esteem. Or is it ego?

Whenever some dilemma comes my way trying to dent my Training or Health for that matter, I get too fucking anxious for my own good! My peace seems to acquire no sleep. Seems I start to breakdown and blow rotten egg scents out my ass like stupid exhaust pipes. Not fucking cool!

The good thing today thus far is I had the honor and privilege of wonderful people coming to my aid giving me advice with warm wishes attached. I love the positive and joyful things for all.. is not lost. But I’ am feeling discouraged. And I know this feeling all too well. I’ll just do my best not to look it’s way. It’s not needed and I shouldn’t invite it in. FML!

Last thought: I have to make a decision based on this Shoulder. It seems the typical solution is to visit the doctor.. Hah!.. (That’s becoming a habit every couple of years. There’s only so much pain you can work through an exercise).. is to let my shoulder heal, which means no upper body for a month or more. I’ve gone through this in the past with my elbow and ulna. I allowed my ego to get in the way of things. Hehe. Sharp pains shooting up my pinky, forearm whenever I lifted a weight or tried to arm wrestle. This prevented me from continually heightening my progress. So, of course I fear this may happen again.. though I know more about Fitness and the Training Life now. But emotions, sometimes it’s hard to be in control of every single feeling. Sometimes it’s hard not to be a human. I wrestle sometimes with certain demons.

Unfortunately, this shit has me biting my nails. I’m moody as hell. I’m a little depress. Just the thought of not training my upper body is like a crack head out of money, out of drugs and is wondering when and where is it going to get it’s next hit from?

Keeping active even when you’re sick means you’re beyond the masses of the average. That’s what I’m holding onto.

A developing stuffy nose turn runny came about in my life roughly 4 days ago. Then, all of a sudden, my nose seemed to clear up quite a bit and a little tickle would sneak up at the back of my throat. First I was sneezing just like those fucks who suffer from allergies. Then it turn from a faint cough to a non-stop hacking cough. (Just earlier today, I got off the train in the morning for being so embarrass coughing next to the the man on the train. I took a cab to work after. Let’s just say it brought childhood school memories. ;)) First the cough was dry. Then phlegm. My voice sounds quite beautiful breaking and cracking like Justin Bieber‘s puberty phase. 🙂

At the first sign of any sickness that appears within my body, I trip the fuck out worse than smoking/drinking and getting hypnotized by strobe-lights. I go almost into a state of depression where I’m at a lost for thoughts and short-term memory. I suspect this would have something to do with and obstacle getting in between me and my workouts and having a paranoia condition like, well, the phobia: Emetophobia. I truly have a fear of being sick. I just don’t know if I grew into this or if I always had this within me and it was just properly secluded as the depths of my lusty being.

My body has been trying to become sick since January. I’m sure after I knocked off a small sinus infection, it didn’t help that I had food poisoning right after. So I can only assume some bacteria was floating around still. And I probably didn’t give myself enough rest from hard workouts in between. We are finishing February in a mere day.. we’ll be heading into March. So, excuse me, if I seem to be fucking pissed off all the time lately! I don’t like when life, stress, family, relationships, sex or sickness plays a part/obstacle coming in between me and my workouts.

What gets me is right now is I shouldn’t be sore from the aches and pains all over my body from this my hacking cough. I should be sore from my own doings, my own training sessions, my own physical sickness I DO. And it sucks because there’s always that decision to make: Do I workout anyway with what’s going on, knowing I can make it worse over time? Do I take it easy and make sure to get some active rest by just doing low intensity cardio? Or do I rest completely and not even look at fitness links/video/magazines to kickstart my adrenaline?

My favorite also is when people tell me, “Oh don’t workout, just relax your body!” And though, I want to take heed in what they’re saying. I have to go according to what I can deal with. I can’t go according to the average folk who barely likes to workout from the get go. They’re always searching for a way to get out their own workouts with the leading example: Being Sick. I’m not one of those. I workout when I’m sick, on my period, when my finger was fucked up and in a stint, doesn’t matter.

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And I’m already off to a battle with my body wanting to become sick for the second time around.

At this moment my immune system is down. I can sense this due to overtraining, (as usual). The level of my irritation ….overboard. Stupid people put me at high edge because they’re already stupid.

I’ve been swallowing and I feel… an imaginary cluster of peanuts with sodium that has abused my glands and tonsils as it’s own personal speed bag. My nose is more confused then a man trying to figure out women talk. It doesn’t know if it wants to run or clog.